When Ivy clocked out, two bodyguards escorted her as usual.
On her way home, her phone buzzed with a WhatsApp message from Katrina Lester: "Dinner at my place tonight—I'm cooking."
Katrina had always been a good cook, but ever since her mother fell ill a few months back, she’d taken her skills up a notch. She spent hours researching new recipes and making nourishing soups, all to help her mom recover. Practice made perfect, and Katrina’s dishes now tasted better than ever.
Of course, the main reason for this impromptu feast was less noble—after last night’s and this morning’s embarrassing incidents, Katrina’s best friend had caught her in the act. The only way to keep her from gossiping was to bribe her with a home-cooked dinner.
Ivy was still staring at Katrina’s message, debating how to reply, when Jamison’s name popped up on her phone.
“Hey, are you done for the day?” she asked, her voice soft as her longing for her husband flared up again.
“Yeah, just finished a meeting. There’s a dinner event tonight, so I’ll be home pretty late. I probably won’t have time to video call, so I thought I’d ring you now.”
His voice was low and gentle, so warm, so different from the distant man she’d first met.
“I get it. Don’t worry about me, I’m fine.”
“Of course you are, you little rascal,” Jamison grumbled, thinking of her cheeky WhatsApp from that morning and still feeling a little put out.
He’d even called Naylor Wilson during the day to tease him about how he’d slept last night—was the guest room bed good enough for a man of his stature?
Naylor shot right back, joking that Mr. Jamison’s wife wasn’t just clever, she’d also picked up the habit of eavesdropping. Maybe it was because “some people” weren’t up to the task, leaving their wife feeling neglected.
Talk about hitting where it hurts.
Jamison was already brooding about their lack of intimacy, and Naylor’s jabs certainly didn’t help.
Ivy, clueless as to what she’d said wrong, protested, “How am I heartless? I’m doing my best to be a good wife every single day—maybe Dr. Ludwig should just give me a manual?”
Jamison let out a dry laugh. “Don’t worry, when I get home, I’ll give you a lesson myself.”
Ivy finally caught his drift. “Seriously?”
She rolled her eyes, but then it clicked—he must’ve been provoked by Naylor.
“Don’t worry,” she said with a smirk. “Tonight, I’ll make Katrina sleep in my room. Let’s see how you and your best buddy like being in the same boat for once.”
Jamison chuckled, clearly pleased. “That’s my girl.”
When Ivy got home, she was surprised to find Naylor in the kitchen, actually helping Katrina prep dinner.
She set down her bag and wandered over, grinning in disbelief. “Wow, did the sun rise in the west today? What did I do to deserve Naylor cooking for me?”
Naylor glanced at her and replied without missing a beat, “Didn’t you tell Katrina this morning to make sure I was well taken care of? Since you played the gracious host, it’s only right I return the favor.”
Katrina whipped around and smacked his arm so hard the potato he was peeling flew out of his hand.
Naylor shot her a look. “You’re getting more violent by the day.”
“Not as bad as you!” Katrina fired back.
Ivy raised her hands in surrender. “Hey, can you two please not flirt in front of me? Otherwise, I’ll kick you both out.”
“Ivy! Don’t just say things like that!” Katrina yelped, cheeks flaming as she stomped her foot, then shooed Ivy away. “Go on, out! I just need to finish up these last couple of dishes. Go relax.”
“Thanks, you two. This looks amazing.”
Normally, if it were just Katrina in the kitchen, Ivy would never sit idly by while her friend did all the work. But with Naylor in there, the two were clearly enjoying themselves, and Ivy didn’t want to third-wheel.
She headed upstairs, washed up, and changed into comfy loungewear.
By the time she came back down, the kitchen table was covered in steaming plates of food.
“Ivy, dinner’s ready!” Katrina called, grinning.
Ivy took in the feast, happiness bubbling up. “God, I’ve missed your cooking. Maybe I should have Jamison travel more often, so I can crash here more.”
Naylor’s lips quirked into a wry smile, as if lost in thought.
Ivy caught the look and teased, “You should be thanking me, Naylor. Girlfriends like Katrina are a rare find—smart, capable, and such a great cook. You’d be lucky to find another like her.”
“True. Thank you, Mrs. Jamison,” Naylor replied without hesitation.
The three of them sat down for dinner, chatting about everything that had happened lately.
When the conversation turned to work, Ivy mentioned the Windsor Group’s asset restructuring. Naylor’s eyebrows shot up when he learned she was involved.
“You’re handling the background checks and asset analysis? Your boss must really trust you—for an intern, that’s a big deal,” Naylor said, not condescending, just genuinely surprised.
Ivy shrugged as she helped herself to another bite. “Edmond Shaw insisted I join. I guess he knows I’m not exactly on good terms with the Windsor family, so there’s no risk of me getting bought out. That way, he can trust the data I dig up. With all the new regulations in finance, any shady moves or fake numbers are a huge risk. He doesn’t want to get caught in the fallout.”
As she spoke about her work, Ivy was calm and confident.
Naylor nodded. “Makes sense. No one’s better suited than you. But is the Windsor family cooperating? After all, Baillie must hate your guts for forcing him to marry that older heiress.”